Up, Up & Away
by gymjunky71
Summary: It all started when Sam had his first growth spurt. Since then, he has been distancing himself from Dean and Hunting. The Winchester brothers were growing apart. Dean's POV of Sam growing from a slightly chubby 16 year old to a giant of an 18 year old young man. Complete.


**Up, Up & Away**

_Started out as a fluffy one-shot about Sam's growth spurt. _Grew_ into something more. Enjoy :) _

* * *

><p><span><strong>Summer 1999<strong>

Dean Winchester was not short by any means. He was 6'1" and weighed 176 pounds. He was built similarly to their father, John, but he had his mother's features. Green eyes and blond hair - though that darkened as he grew older. He was four years older than his only sibling, Sam.

Sam had shaggy brown hair with a fringe, hazel eyes, and was teased for his soft figure. One summer, that changed (overnight, in Dean's opinion). They were twenty and sixteen years old respectively. Sam just got his driver's license. Not a lot of use as John barely let Dean drive the Impala.

Sam might be soft but he was well trained for combat. Sam was a tad over 5'6" and 150 pounds. He wasn't as chubby as he was when he was twelve ... although he was about the same weight back then. After they parked at a motel in Wyoming, Dean waited till John went into the lobby to book their rooms before checking in on Sam. The sun was just about to set.

They had been driving all day.

"You've been pretty quiet for the last five hours. You OK back there, dude?"

Sam winced and complained, "My legs ... they're hurting."

Dean twisted around, resting his arm on the back of his chair, to see his little brother. That innocent, soft face. Those troubled eyes that have seen too much. Old before his time.

"Growing pains. I remember those." Dean remembered joking, "Maybe you'll be taller than me one day, Sammy."

Dean should not be so surprised that Sam did just that. Sam didn't just grow big ... he grew _huge_. Topping out at 6'5" and 180 pounds before he left for Stanford University in 2001. But it was hardly a smooth ride up there.

Dean always made certain that his little brother had plenty to eat and the best quality that they could afford. Not the healthiest eater personally, he knew better than to influence Sam in that way. He wouldn't be proud of passing on those bad habits. Dean was lucky he made it to John's height with his poor diet. Sam looked up to Dean and emulated him in ways their father fell short of providing.

His playful devil-may-care attitude was a front. Dean was an old soul at heart. So was Sam. While their father hit the bar after giving them the second room key, Dean walked Sam to the Winn Dixie they had passed in the Impala a couple blocks away. With their father absent so often, Dean took on the role of the father in Sam's life.

Dean had strong paternal instincts. The line between brother and father was very blurry when it came to the Winchester brothers' relationship. He wasn't tough enough to implement punishments, however.

Sam had this puppy-dog look he'd give Dean that had the power to make Dean do anything for him. This expression never worked on John. And Sam was giving it to Dean that night.

"Where do you hurt exactly?" he asked Sam, softening his deep voice.

Sam gazed up at him, "The front of my thighs, my calves, and behind my knees. I'm also really hungry. But, it hurts so much I don't think I can eat a thing."

Dean patted his arm, "We'll get you your favorites. 'Gotta eat somethin', Sam."

And so Dean used their budget to buy one of Sam's favorite microwavable TV dinners: lean ground turkey chili with barley, bell peppers, zuchini, onion, garlic, and tomato sauce. It was from one of those overpriced organic companies but it was worth it. Dean used some of his half of the budget to buy Sam a baked chicken. He'd intended to use whatever change to buy something from Taco Bell once he had Sam settled in their motel room. But, Sam was pitiful at hiding how much pain he was in.

He kept shifting his weight restlessly and wasn't talking as much as he usually did when away from John. Eyes and pouty lips in full puppy-dog mode, he was killing Dean whether he meant to or not. Dean caved and bought a bottle of ibuprofen with the last of their dinner money. Sam had been telling the truth about his nausea and managed to eat half of his TV dinner but did not touch the chicken. So, Dean ended up having something to eat that night after all.

It was ingrained in them to not let food go to waste. By morning, Sam was pain-free. But by the end of the day, the pain was returning and climaxed while he was sleeping. The cycle had continued for a month when Dean felt as though he had blinked and missed Sam's physical changes.

As Sam grew taller, his weight did not follow. In fact, he lost a couple pounds. He went from two extremes, soft to thin, by July. They were in another state by then (Nebraska). Dean knew Sam was relieved he would not have to be teased for his weight when he'd start 11th Grade.

But, he looked pinched. Almost ill. He had grown many inches that first month. He was now 5'10". They were nearly eye-to-eye now which amused Dean.

The pains were still present but the upside was that Sam was not nauseous as often. Contrary to his thin physique, Sam's appetite had returned with a vengeance. For example, one night they went to a Golden Coral. Sam picked the healthiest entrees but he had a substantial portion. He was out-eating Dean which was a steep feat.

John barely noticed Sam growing up but he allowed them a bigger budget for meals. It was cute how, what with Sam's otherwise boney frame, his flat belly would distend at every meal. The pooch didn't stay long. It'd be deflated in a matter of an hour or two. Dean had wondered before what Sam might look like if he were thin.

In the end, he didn't care what Sam looked like as long as he was happy. And Sam was happier now that he was taller.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Fall 1999<strong>

Enrolled in another school from August to November, Sam became more active. When his nose wasn't buried in textbooks, Sam would take theater classes and play soccer. But, he had chosen the life of a loner. Reluctance to make close friendships because of his unstable home life. But, he started to get attention from girls thanks in part to his growth spurt.

Girls liked tall guys and Sam was easily the tallest in their grade. His thinness made him appear even taller and gave him a chiseled face which some found appealing, too. He had the Winchester good-looks, after all. Dean witnessed one day that August when he came to pick Sam up at the bus stop.

"What that girl did back there ... that's what's known as 'flirting'. Haven't you taken Sex Ed. yet? She was checkin' you out." Dean teased.

Sam rolled his eyes, "It can't happen, Dean. Dad said we'll stay till November but he's said that before -"

Dean insisted, "Dude, you don't gotta be the freakin' Jack to her Rose. Hook-up for once."

"I'm not like you, Dean." Sam said, giving Dean a look that said he was done talking about it.

Dean hung back, watching skinny Sammy walk ahead, "You don't know what you're missing!"

And Sam flipped Dean the bird. That night was one of the Bad Nights. Sam was massaging his legs and arms, attempting to stretch his muscles. All was forgiven when Dean gave him two ibuprofens when the massaging and stretching proved futile. Sam's forehead felt warm and he was sweating bullets.

He could hardly concentrate on his homework and was worried he'd get receive no better than a B on them. Nerd. Dean turned on the TV to distract Sam and he slept easy knowing this would pass by morning. As always, it did. Like nothing had happened.

Except ...

"Hey, you shrunk all my shirts in the laundry mat!" Sam accused, stepping out of the bathroom.

Indeed, his Henley was about two inches above his jutting hips. Dean's laundry was not shrunk in the washer. Sam had just outgrown his 'fat' clothes. He looked so pitiful, Dean couldn't help but laugh.

"I wish I had a camera! You look like you're wearing a chick's crop-top!"

Sam's face turned from panic to sour in a matter of half a second, "Shut-up."

He pulled off the shirt and threw it at Dean's face. Sam returned to his duffle bag, riffling through his shirts. When doubled over, his spine protruded and Dean could count a lot of his ribs. _Why won't any of that damn food stick to Sam's bones instead of stretching them every night?!_ Done with being amused by Sam's predicament, Dean took pity on him.

He pulled out one of his old AC/DC t-shirts from his own duffle and offered it to Sam.

"Here, I got it when I was your age." Dean shared.

Sam cringed and wrinkled his nose, "Has it been _washed_ since then?"

"Shut-up," Dean chuckled, dumping it on top of Sam's head.

Sam was growing so rapidly that Dean started to worry. Sometimes Sam's nights were so bad that he'd lie awake in near-agony and he'd have a limp if he had to walk anywhere. He was only 16 but he was nearly the same height as his brother. He'd overeat at night and his belly would be concave again by morning.

Sam's feet and hands were large like a wolf pup. His face was very thin, his cheeks sunken. Dean had heard about gigantism and was Googling the hell out of it. Naturally, the internet had him paranoid enough to ask John if he could make an appointment for Sam with a doctor. John agreed but when Dean brought it up with Sam, Sam declined.

By September, Sam was a lean 6'2" and 140 pound teenager. Many adults were treating Sam as if he were an adult. He towered over most, anyway. It helped that Sam was so damn intelligent and world-conscious. But, what came with his new body was something Dean could really do without. Sam was becoming more rebellious.

He was arguing with John almost every day. He hated his unstable life and resented their father for it. He was even getting snarky with Dean and pushing him away. They fought about once every two weeks. Sam stopped sharing with Dean what was on his mind.

So, Dean had no choice but to follow Sam to a high school football game. He had a bad feeling about it that he couldn't shake. He had to walk there from the motel. It was way too expensive to take a taxi. He could smoke and drink his beer on the way.

Dean looked older than twenty-one and was never asked to see his ID. When he reached the game, he found Sam hanging out with a group of boys and girls. Dean was surprised to see Sam so at ease with the group ... till he saw that Sam had a beer in his overlarge hands. He was a happy-drunk. Dean sat on a bench and lit his cigarette, supervising from afar.

The boys of the group left to get more beer and Sam was left alone with a brunette girl. Dean's eyebrows disappeared into his spiky hairline when Sam started making-out with the girl. Sam was very ... _forward_ with this girl. His hands were roaming all over her back and he was gripping her hair. Dean felt dirty just watching, dirty enough to look away.

It unnerved him to see his little brother in this element, an element he'd teased Sam about for years. But, a bigger part of Dean's mind was _relieved_ that Sam was letting loose.

Dean pulled out another cigarette. But when he heard some kid shout, he reflexively looked back over at Sam. Sam and the girl had split apart and she was screaming at the boy gripping Sam by the collar of his shirt.

It was one of the boys who had been laughing with Sam just minutes ago. His friends flanked him. He punched Sam in the nose and the girl ran away.

"HEY!" Dean roared, running over to them.

Sam was clearly wasted, but he nailed a right-hook to his attacker. That boy was knocked to the ground and his friends pounced on Sam. This was all happening so fast. But at the arrival of Dean, the boy's let Sam go like a hot potato. Dean shoved the one that hit Sam into the chain link fence surrounding the football field.

"Sam, are you OK?" Dean asked, pinning the attacker against the fence.

Sam's nose was bleeding out his nostrils over his lips. He swayed where he stood, standing as straight as a giraffe on ice. The boy was lucky Sam was intoxicated. Not so lucky that he had a brother like Dean. This couldn't be overheard by the cheering crowd in the stands.

"Touch him one more time. I dare you. I don't going back to prison," he showed him the pocket knife in his jacket. "But, I know boys who think they own girls are cowards."

That was a lie as Dean had never been to prison. Yet. Sam walked off, wiping his bloody nose on his sleeve. Dean fixed the group with his nastiest glare and barked at them. The boys scattered.

"You made it worse." Sam accused when Dean caught up with him, his voice thick.

Dean directed Sam towards the motel, walking side-by-side on the busy road.

"They had it coming. They're assholes." Dean sighed, "Look, dude, if they give you trouble at school Monday -"

"Don't talk about them like th-that. Hey! They're my friends." Sam muttered.

"Yeah? Well, you sure know how to pick 'em." Dean scathed.

It hit Dean that night just how lonely Sam was. He didn't understand why, as he was always with Dean when not in school. But, he just wasn't enough socialization for Sam. He knew it was wrong, but he felt failure. Inadequacy.

All he knew was being Sam's protector and best friend. Who would he be if it weren't for Sam? They made it to the motel parking lot when Sam turned on Dean. Dean understood what it felt like to be John in a fight with Sam.

"What are you gonna do? Hit me?" Sam jeered, a most un-Sam-like expression. "I'm growing-up, Dean. You've gotta accept it sooner or later -"

"I'm not going to hit you, Sam." Dean growled.

They may be equal in height by now, but Sam had a lot of filling-out to do before it'd be anywhere close to a fair fight.

Sam spat back, "Why not?"

"I'd break you in half, that's why not." Dean snapped, shoving Sam into their motel room. "Dumbass."

Sam staggered and lurched, clapping his hand over his mouth. Dean cringed and rolled his eyes while Sam fell to his knees at the trash bin and vomited.

"And there goes $15.85 down the drain." Dean snapped, the price of Sam's dinner.

When Sam had emptied his belly, he sat back on the floor with a _thud_ and Dean took out the sick-filled bag to the dumpster in the parking lot. When he returned, he found Sam lying on the floor. Dean tugged him to his feet, knowing he had to get Sam cleaned up before John came back from the bar. He directed Sam to the bathroom.

"Now, I ain't gonna give you a sponge bath. Even I have limits. Can you shower without drowning?"

Sam shoved him, "Get out."

Dean was perturbed by the strength behind that shove. He did not like Sam hitting him. It hurt and not just physically. Dean nodded curtly and shut the door behind him. Sam hit the door with his fist and Dean sighed, rubbing his face.

Dean laid out an old pair of his pajama pants and an overlarge old t-shirt of John's for Sam to wear to bed. Sam's pajamas just don't fit him anymore. While he went about his routine, Dean gathered all his frustration with Sam. When Sam exited from the shower with a towel around his waist, Dean was ready for him.

All fired up to preach to Sam, Dean rounded on his drunk little brother, "Look, I was your age once. Not too long ago. And trust me, your attitude is tame compared to mine. And you know what I had to do? Hide it ... because I couldn't _afford _to be selfish. I had to take care of your fat ass."

He stopped short, knowing he'd gone too far. He'd never called Sam 'fat' before. Hoping the blow was dulled now that Sam was skinny as hell, Dean's glare softened. Sam seemed too wasted to think up a retort. But, Dean was remorseful.

"Sorry, dude." he cleared his throat.

Sam muttered under his breath and got dressed in the clothes Dean set out for him. Clean and still drunk, Sam sank down at the small circular table by the window. Dean pestered him to eat but Sam just fell asleep at the table. He may look boney but looks were deceiving. Either Dean needed to hit the gym or 140 pounds was heavier than he anticipated. Dean heaved his skinny brother into his arms and carried him over to the bed. Sam's feet were almost at the end of the bed. Damn close.

Sam was sick again in the morning and John knew exactly what had happened. And he blamed Dean. John hardly talked to Dean and as punishment did not take him on the next Hunt. Sam seemed remorseful even if Dean did not blame him.

"I'm sorry, Dean." he muttered, coming up behind Dean watching John drive away in the Impala.

Dean sighed and turned to look _up _at Sam, "He's just a mean old man sometimes."

Sam smiled, "Yeah. Sometimes." He then sighed, hands deep in his pockets, "He'll keep pushing us away till we're not here anymore."

Dean cleared his throat, "Yeah, well, that won't happen to us. Right?"

Sam smiled, showing his teeth this time, "Sure, Dean."

"Wanna _drink_ to that?" Dean joked and Sam punched him in the arm.

These were the moments that Dean looked forward to. No matter how distant they may be growing, they still came back to each other. Meanwhile, no matter what Dean fed Sam, Sam remained stubbornly thin. Over time, Dean stopped worrying that something was medically wrong with Sam. He accepted that his chubby, sweet little brother was a thing of the past.

Sam had his good attitude days and downright unpleasant attitude days. Those were the most harrowing for Dean's insecure heart. Sam was growing through a phase Dean would not be sorry to see done.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Spring 2000<strong>

They moved to another state. Sam was so cross about it that he stopped talking to John altogether for weeks on end. This was the year Sam was applying for college, which John obviously didn't take seriously. Dean never went to college, he only had a GED. Sam had a perfect GPA which can't have been easy even if Sam was smarter than Dean.

By Dean's 21st birthday in January 2000, Sam was putting on some weight as his growth spurt appeared to be taking a break. Every once in a while, his legs and arms would ache. He was still thin, just not nearly-emaciated. His appetite did not change. His athletics were starting to show results, broadening his toned body.

The Winchester brothers were expensive for John to keep fed. So, Dean periodically gave Sam his side of the budget. This kept Dean from growing a gut from the junk food so everyone was happy.

Dean let the measuring tape recoil with a _snap_ back into its metal container, "Six foot three. Historic day for you."

He and Sam did a fist bump. Dean grinned when Sam handed him a birthday gift bag. Inside was a six pack and three porn magazines.

"You know me well." Dean chuckled, patting Sam on the shoulder.

He did not know Sam so well anymore. Sam was becoming more complex and secretive. Their lifelong state-hopping lifestyle had been difficult for Sam developmentally. Dean blamed it, and by extension John, for Sam's inner turmoil.

Sam was hiding it for Dean's birthday, "What do you wanna do? Today belongs to you."

Dean thought for a moment, "Wanna go kayaking? We've never been. There's a cold spring a half an hour away."

"That's expensive, though." Sam worried.

Dean showed Sam John's gift, $100, "Come on."

Disappointingly, the kayak rental did not have kayaks large enough for either of the brothers. So, Sam and Dean went swimming instead. Down to their swim trunks, Dean dipped his toes in the icy water.

Sam laughed, "Don't torture yourself by the steps, dude. Sometimes in life you've gotta just - dive in!"

And Sam did a canon-ball from the ledge of the pool. A group of girls exclaimed hotly. When Sam stood up in the water with his long hair slicked back, they seemed to forget their anger. Sam gave them a smile.

"That's my boy." Dean said to himself.

He dove in and joined Sam to flirt with the girls. They were in college and Sam, being a nerd, asked them questions too serious for flirting. They were happy to answer his questions, attracted to his brains. Regardless, Dean got to hook-up with two of the girls so no harm done. Overall, it ended up one of Dean's most memorable birthdays.

It was a good thing, too. Because over the next year, Sam seemed to be strategically distancing himself from Dean and John especially. It was intentional and Dean was left wondering what he did wrong. With each state they moved to, Sam's resentment towards their father deepened. But, John was relentless.

Careless. Dean could hardly blame Sam for feeling that way ... because he was starting to, too.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Spring 2001<strong>

Sam grew two more inches by his high school graduation and was stomping around at 180 pounds at 18 years old. And by that time, he and Dean had grown apart what with his obvious reluctance to continue on as a Hunter. Sam had stopped going on Hunts years ago. He still knew his stuff because he was so smart. _So, so damn smart_, Dean thought.

He was officially a giant. If his face weren't so youthful, people might mistake Sam for being the older brother to Dean. Sam's former self would drown in his shadow like Dean was now. With the added hostility, Sam was more intimidating than ever. John missed Sam's graduation which seemed fine by Sam.

But, Dean knew Sam better than anyone. He could not miss the puppy-dog eyed expression. It was an echo of a time long gone but it was still there. Dean just couldn't seem to reach his heart anymore. Sam might have been at a loss as to how to reconnect with Dean. Dean was certainly trying.

Sam's lack of effort made Dean feel like he didn't want Dean anymore. Sam had all these sashes and ropes around his neck with his graduation robe and hat. In spite of their crumbling relationship, Dean was there to watch Sam walk. He knew this was important for his little nerd. When he heard Sam's name called out, he leapt to his feet, cheered, and whistled.

He waved as obnoxiously as he could. But, Sam didn't look for him in the crowd. He shook hands with the adults on stage and went back to his seat. Dean sat for another hour or so before they were let out into the courtyard. He panicked when he couldn't find Sam.

After asking everyone who would talk to him, he had no choice but to return to the motel. To his surprise, Sam was there. He had given his rental graduation robe back to the school. He was wearing baggy jeans and a brown zip-up hoodie. His eyes were glassy as though he'd been crying.

Dean saw that Sam had his dufflebag on his shoulder.

"You were gonna leave without saying 'goodbye'?" he asked, his voice tight.

"I waited for you." Sam adjusted the dufflebag on his shoulder, "I thought it would be easier if dad found out this way."

A fat envelope was left on their father's desk.

"What's this?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed, "Read it."

_**Dear Samuel Winchester,**_

_**We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted at Stanford University for the Fall of 2001. ...**_

Dean gulped, his mouth going dry, "That's ... I'm proud of you, Sammy."

Sam shook his head, "Tell dad for me."

"This is something you've got to say to his face, Sam." Dean insisted, gazing up at him. "You owe him that -"

Sam curled his lip, "I don't owe that man a damn thing."

"You're his kid." Dean whispered, stepping closer and blocking the door. "You think he won't blame me for not stopping you?"

"You can't stop me." Sam shrugged. "It's done. I've gotta walk to the bus station. It leaves for California in an hour."

"Look, I know he didn't show up to your graduation. He got held up at a case. You know he would rather be -" Dean tried to defend John, but his heart wasn't in it.

Sam curled his lip, "You're lying to yourself, Dean. Get out of this while you can. You could come with me to California. Live a normal life."

Dean spread his arms, "I wanna be a Hunter, Sammy. I am a Hunter. This is my life. It was once yours, too. Saving people, Hunting things. It's the family business, dude."

The door opened behind them and Dean's heart sank. John had returned from the case.

"You going somewhere, Sam?" John demanded gruffly.

Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean but full-on glared at John, "Surprised you noticed. Missed something today?"

For all Sam's talk that he didn't love John, he cared too much about what John thought of him for that to be true. Dean could see the wall between Sam and John thickening while they scowled at each other.

Dean cleared his throat, stepping between the two most important people in his life, "Sam got in to Stanford, dad. He's going to become a lawyer."

"You think you're just gonna walk away from this family?!" roared John, throwing down his bag.

It _clacked _loudly, filled with rocksalt guns and other supernatural weapons.

"_What_ family?" Sam shot back, dumping his bag on one of the beds. "You were never a father to me!"

"Sam!" Dean pressed a hand to Sam's broad chest.

Sam towered John by three inches but John weighed more not to mention more experience. But, Sam had youth on his side. Dean knew Sam could take John apart if he lost control.

"I'm not just some _thing _you can cart around the country anymore, Dad!" Sam roared, his voice becoming baritone. "I refuse to be some soldier in your crusade! I am my own person and I refuse to continue to burn my life away just to keep you warm."

This was worse than any fight Dean had ever witnessed between John and Sam. Dean was so desperate he might call up a witch to cast a spell to make everything good again.

"Well. If you're going ... you _stay _gone." said John flatly.

Sam glanced at Dean and Dean shook his head helplessly. He tried to convey that he did not agree with John. He wanted Sam to come back. He wanted to visit Sam in between cases. He wanted to keep his brother.

But, Sam did not seem to get the silent message. He fixed the pair of them with the most hateful glare, such a glare that stabbed Dean's heart like a dozen daggers. And then he was out of Dean's life.

**The End**


End file.
